


Saving You

by Julian_Juliana



Category: Harry Potter - Fandom
Genre: F/M, Secret Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-20
Updated: 2015-01-20
Packaged: 2018-03-08 10:01:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,276
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3205133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Julian_Juliana/pseuds/Julian_Juliana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One-shot! Takes place in HBP. As Draco lay healing in the Hospital Wing from Harry's hex, Hermione pays him a late night visit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Saving You

Draco was about to drift off into a deep slumber when he heard the tiniest sound of pitter-patter next to his bed. Too exhausted to think much of it, his slumber progressed but came to an abrupt halt when feeling a hand sneak under his blanket and rest underneath his nightshirt. The hand was warm and small, delicately tracing a soothing pattern below his bellybutton with a fingernail. The touch intimate but not overtly sexual. His eyes fluttered open and he sighed out, "Granger, what are you doing? You should be in bed."

"I couldn't sleep," she whispered and he saw her raise from a crouched stance. Without his permission, she pulled back his covers and joined him, putting the blankets back in place as they both adjusted into a more accommodating position. Draco's arm wrapped around her back, his palm resting above her hip as she laid her head on his shoulder, careful not put any weight on his wounds.

"What's got my girl all riled up tonight?" he murmured into her citrus-fragrant hair and smirked, very much aware why she had come to visit.

She shifted a bit in his arms and he felt the warm breath on his neck turn into a scoff. "That's a stupid question," she grumbled and then nuzzled her nose against his pulse before brushing her lips over the skin. She heard him swallow and smiled but frowned just as quick. Once more, she kissed the patch of skin, adding a teasing bit of tongue and then said, "I'm sorry about Harry."

He stiffened momentarily at the mention of her friend and then relaxed and nonchalantly replied, "You don't need to apologize for that bespectacled tosser."

"He hurt you," she murmured and titled her head up to look at him.

He lowered his chin to get a better look at her and saw her lovely brown eyes shimmering at him in the dark. It wasn't fair Potter got to have her. The blighter may not fancy Granger, but he got to see her all the time and hold her whenever he bloody well wanted. Word in the pit was he fancied that Blood Traitor the She-Weasel, but that did little in taming Draco's anxiety. All Potter would have to do is realize how perfect Hermione was. The bint said she liked him, but she wasn't daft nor was he. They were on opposing sides, and the war worsened every day. He wasn't helping with his attempts in fixing the Vanishing Cabinet. He was close. Each time he visited the cabinet, he felt the damage lessen. It was almost ready, and he couldn't stop now. Once Hermione discovered what he'd done, she'd never forgive him. The little fantasy about caring for him she cooked up would spoil, and she'd hate him and eventually move on.

"What are you thinking about?" she asked quietly and he thought it a crime to have eyes like hers. When he was young, he always perceived them as muddy brown just like her blood. On the contrary, those orbs were soft and dewy and bottomless. They penetrated him deeper than the hex Potter tossed at him earlier. They damaged him more, too. Her innocence and sweetness astounded him, scared him even. The war. This blasted war could strip her from those things he loved. He knew of several Senior Death Eaters who'd love to get their filthy, bloodied hands on her. They'd steal and desecrate her virtue, her precious gift she wanted to save for someone far worthier than himself.

"You," he said and wondered how he was going to get her out of the school, out of England until…

He didn't know for how long. If the Dark Lord won, she'd never return. He'd make sure of that. If the Dark Lord failed and Potter killed him, then she'd be safe to come back.

He was getting ahead of himself. How on earth was he going to get her out of here without her kicking and screaming and hexing him into oblivion?

"And?" Hermione urged him continue. She liked being on his mind. It boosted her ever-dwindling confidence. He wasn't the nicest boy she ever met, but he was _so_ cute. Usually, a boy's physicality never affected her, but there was something about Draco Malfoy, one of the most handsome boys in school, fancying her. She was just a bushy-haired bookworm with smallish breast and skinny hips. There was nothing womanly about her. A lot of other girls with certain assets got loads more of attention than she, but here she was cuddling with Malfoy, and he was enjoying it.

"And…" He grunted and shifted, so he was on his side facing her, their fingers interlaced. "I want to know what you're planning on doing next year."

Hermione frowned at him, confused by the question. "I'll be here, Draco."

"Even with things going how they are? Aren't you worried? It may not be safe."

Was he hinting at something? Hermione inwardly mused. Did he know something? She looked at where their hands joined and travelled her gaze to his left forearm. That's where the Death Eaters put their Dark Mark, right? Did Draco have one? She had never seen him with his sleeves rolled up, even in potions when the hot steam from the boiling cauldrons permeated the air and everyone begged Professor Slughorn if they could take of their heavy robes.

Harry accused Draco of being a Death Eater before the school year even began, but Hermione hadn't put much stock into it. What would You-Know-Who want with a sixteen year old boy? She read through the history books in the library and knew Tom Riddle preferred his minions to be of age, even older. They had more magical experience and knowledge.

Yet, Hermione couldn't shake off the fact that Draco's father was in prison for being a Death Eater, and Draco may not be openly loyal to You-Know-Who, but he was to his father.

"I know things are looking bad, but Hogwarts will be safe. It's the safest place in all of England," she said as if reciting someone else's claim, and Draco wanted to reprimand her for her naivety. Hogwarts hadn't been safe from the moment eleven year old Potter sauntered onto the grounds.

"I think being outside of England would be even safer." He tried sounding careless, even humorous, but the edge was there and Hermione sensed it because she sat up and stared down at him. Despite the darkness, her inquiring face was visible.

"Is there something you'd like to tell me?"

The shakiness of her voice indicated that her mind cooked up all kinds of scenarios already, and Draco feared many of them were spot on. Gently, he replied, "Yes…and no." Truthful. He wanted to tell her everything and nothing at all. He yearned to yank those cancerous secrets from his chest, but scared out of his mind she'd hate him and worse, go chatting up to Potter and Dumbledore immediately. She'd wake both of them up. Hell, the entire school would rouse from her undoubtedly incensing need to warn everybody what was going to happen shortly.

Coming to a compromise, he vaguely informed, "I don't know much. Just from what the seventh years have said down in the dungeons. They say it's going to be bad next year. They say it will be too dangerous for Mud…Muggle-Borns to come to school."

Hermione wanted to argue this but understood. She'd be lying if she said it wasn't dangerous now. Hogwarts was safe, but everything outside was utter chaos. Many of her peers' parents were threatening to take their children out of school with what happened to Katie and Ron. Her parents didn't even want her to return to school either, and they hardly knew anything, just the nerve-wracking rubbish printed in the _Daily Prophet._

She stole her hand away and caressed Draco's forehead before bending down to kiss his lips. They were soft and warm and inviting like always, and hot butterflies fluttered excitedly inside her belly. The intended quick, intimate kiss morphed into something more, and Draco beckoned her to lie on top of him. He refrained from hissing at the pressure on his wounds and distracted himself by nipping her bottom lip. In retribution, she clamped her lips over his top one and tugged.

The girl may have the purity of an angel, but she snogged like sin.

Ignoring the flaring pain along his torso, he flipped her over and wiggled his tongue passed her lips and tasted the remnants of her nightly dental hygiene session. She made a keening sound in the back of her throat and pulled away. "You taste like medicine." She scraped her tongue along her teeth and he laughed.

"You taste like mint."

She beamed at the compliment but yelped when he dove for her neck and grazed her skin with his teeth before suckling the tissue into his mouth. Chills crawled up her legs, and she curled her toes as her eyes fluttered shut. Breathily, she warned, "You're going to give me a hickey."

He sniggered into her flesh. "What would McGonagall say?"

"Draco!" she squeaked and blushed. No way on earth would she allow her professors to see such an irresponsible blemish. She wasn't the type of girl who flaunted such private things. She never thought any good things of the girls who purposefully exposed their love bites, and she didn't want people thinking those things about her. Her parents brought her up a good girl and even though they'd highly disprove of her current position, she was still intact. No one ever touched her in that way with the exception of Draco's constant accidental brushing of her chest.

Her eyes popped open at the sensation of being deliberately groped, and she admonished, "Draco!" and pried his left hand off her right breast. She blushed and squirmed beneath him. That scoundrel! That was no accident but blatant squeezing. "Draco, what did I tell you?"

He dislodged from her neck with a slobbery slurp and looked at her with faux innocence. "Hmmm?"

"Don't hmmm me. You know what you did."

He palmed her breast again and smirked lecherously. "Do I?"

She slapped him on the cheek, not terribly hard but enough to sting his ego a little. "You know how I feel about all that?"

He pouted and reluctantly let go of the lovely feeling mound. "I was hurt today, Hermione. Touching you makes me not hurt so much."

"Oh, you." She clucked her tongue and lightly smacked his arm and then rubbed it soothingly. She sighed and smiled despite herself. His pouting always weakened her. No wonder he was spoiled rotten. "Can't we just kiss?"

"But we've been kissing for ages. Can't we…you know…do something else?"

"I'm not ready for something else. I told you this before."

"We don't have to do _that_ , just other enjoyable activities."

"Mmmm. I don't think that's a good idea. We'll only end up hurting ourselves. It's hard enough kissing you all the time."

"I had no idea it was torture snogging me, Granger," he bitterly commented.

"That is not what I meant, and you know it. I'm sure you're very aware of your talents, and my appreciation of them. I'm only pointing out how difficult it is for us to keep the kissing to…only that. As much I care for you and like you, I cannot and will not give you more, and _you_ shouldn't pressure me. I've read up on your pureblood traditions. Premarital relations are discouraged."

"Well, yeah, but hardly anyone lives by those standards anymore."

Disappointment and a wave of hurt crashed over Hermione. Slowly, she pushed herself into a sitting position and wryly said, "So you'll toss that belief in the rubbish bin but not the one about Muggle-Borns."

"Were you not draped over me minutes ago? Was I not worshipping your breast? I think my beliefs-"

Hermione shook her head. "It's all in secret. You'd never tell anyone about this."

"And you would?"

She worked over the question, thinking carefully on her answer. Her knee-jerk response was no, but she wasn't like him. She still had school-girl hopes. "Not now but if things were different and you weren't such bigoted git."

Different? No.

Draco shoved that notion away. Nothing would change. This girl. This darling, adorable creature with sparkling doe eyes and a sweet little mouth was bound to die at the wand of a lunatic. If he were a more unstable or more caring man, depending how one looked at it, he'd kill her now. He'd rid her of future suffering quickly and painlessly.

Who was he kidding? He couldn't even kill that cockroach of a codger Dumbledore, and he didn't even like him all that much.

Blast, he really needed to get Hermione out of this place, but how? Her stubbornness astounded him. Her insistence to fight for the light side and throw herself into dangerous situations like a stupid, retching Gryffindor would thwart any type of persuasion from him.

Sighing, he cupped her chin and thumbed her jawline. The darkened area failed to hide her glare, yet she leaned into his touch. His lips captured hers in a tender kiss as his other hand slipped underneath his pillow. He placed his wand there in case Potter came looking to finish the job.

Carefully, he unsheathed it and pressed the tip against her throat and she stilled. Her eyes widened and her breath quickened. "What are you doing?" she asked unsurely.

"Saving you," he whispered into her ear. " _Imperio_."

The End

**Author's Note:**

> Let your imagination run wild! What could've happened if something like this occurred? ;)


End file.
